New Meds

So, for the first two weeks of school, DD went to the nurse's office 2 to 3 times a day. New teachers. Fresh meat. Even though it states in her IEP that teachers should not let her go to the nurse unless they actually see signs of illness, it was just too soon in the new school year for them to know her tactics. So I get the phone call. The nurse knows her. This is her third year with DD, so she knows the pattern. I told her that I could talk to DD but what she really needed to do was talk to the teachers and let THEM know the history. They are the only ones who can stop her from leaving class everyday.

Then DH took her to her new psychiatrist. He is from Columbia and DH is from Italy, so comprehension on both parts was challenging at times, but overall, DH could tell that the new doc completely understood what he was dealing with. He upped her current medication and added a new one --- new to the market as well--- that he said would yield results within an hour. *sigh*

We are not having any real issues--nothing new at home--- but at school she has at least one altercation a day. Nothing physical yet. Just Jerry Springer mouthing off stuff.

There is good news though. Last weekend I had a wedding to shoot in a neighboring town. We needed my mom to come sit with the kids for the evening--which is usually torture for my mom. This time though, things went smoothly. DD didn't play her too much and she minded mom very well, so that was a relief.

The other tidbit of good news is that DD managed a project by herself pretty well---really well so far. In 6th grade she did a fund raiser for the band and it was a disaster for our home. She didn't get money upfront. She didn't get complete info from folks, then she lost some money, and turned the whole order in late. When the crap came in, it was a real challenge to find out who got what. So, in 7th grade I did not allow her to participate in any fundraisers. Of course, now in 8th grade, she brought another fundraiser home again. I told her the deal was that if she wanted to do this that I wanted nothing to do with it from start to end and if she messed up that she would have to resolve it with her choir director and the neighbors.

She immediately hit the loop and sold several hundred dollars worth of stuff. And she convinced those who didn't want to buy to simply donate cash. She didn't do great with organizing the cash purchases, but the checks helped her late fill in all the missing info. She does have phone numbers and order numbers for all, so should be able to deliver when in comes in. She earned her trip to Six Flags with the choir.

On her blazing sales stump, she met a new girl on the loop. The new girl also needed to sell stuff for her elective, so DD shamelessly went out with her to the same houses, on the same day, and pushed the same people to buy from or donate to her new friend. She may have found the perfect career for herself. Hard core sales.

So, life goes on. Every six weeks we get her braces tightened. Every month we see the new psychiatrist. Next week we get her passport photos. Right now we are all taking a break from therapists.

We don't get excited or react to her dramas and plots. We simply and calmly stop her and redirect her without any emotion -- at least from us -- and go on with our lives, and we are all sleeping a little better. Except my son. He now needs help learning to deal with her. We have deliberately kept him out of the loop in an effort to protect him from much of the ugliness, but now it is time to pull him in, help him adjust, and guide him through how to live with someone you don't trust. And trust is a MASSIVE issue for this guy.

I've given up hope of ever being close to DD, which may be a terrible thing to think or say, but the best I can offer right now is hope that we can all survive each other without too many scars, and hope that even this occasionally awkward relationship we have with DD is better that the life she had before, or the life she would have if she were never adopted. Right or wrong, that is what helps me breathe. That is what helps me sleep. That is what helps me heal some of the damage I've experienced from this whole situation.

Last week I attended the gala premiere of this years Central Texas Heart Gallery. I was a photographer for this event and two of my kiddos were in the gallery. One of the keynote speakers at this event was a beautiful, articulate, intelligent, successful young woman. This incredible young woman aged out of the foster system, having never been adopted. When she was 17, about to turn 18, she asked her foster parents to adopt her, but they said no. Looking at her now you think, how could anyone say no to such a desperately heartfelt request.

The theme of the premiere this year was "What difference does it make?" The answer was, "All the difference in the world." And this young woman brought that home to me.

People always ask why would anyone adopt a 16, 17, or 18 year old. They are about to move out anyway. The Director then asks adults of all ages, when was the last time you called your mom? Did you stop needing parents at 18? Having no parents, no family, no connection. Little things start to matter a lot. Silly things like not having names to fill in the blanks on forms that ask for your mom and dad's names. Not having a place to go home to for the holidays. Not having grandparents for your own children when you get older. They all add up.

Even if all DD gets out of us are names on a form or someone to complain about when her friends complain about their parents, or just having someone to point that teenage angst towards, screaming "My stupid parents!" It is something. Hopefully we will one day mean more to her, but I am ready to accept the fact that we may never be more than that.